Not Forgotten
by Wetstar
Summary: Gabriel Pearson hasn't been having a great year. First he watches the kid he's in love with die in the Hunger Games. Then his father unofficially disowns him. Then everyone finds out his secret, and he becomes District Eight's latest punchline. And now? He's just been reaped into the 56th Hunger Games.
1. Take these broken wings

**Okay, so if you're reading this; this is somewhat a sequel to At Second Glance, in the sense that you don't HAVE to read At Second Glance first, but I would recommend checking it out. Gabriel mentions a few events that happen in there, and it might make it a bit easier to understand. You don't have to if you don't want to though. It still makes sense on its own. Also, if you want to see another story/chapter with Gabriel in it, check out chapter 16 of Iron Children. Anyways, enjoy the story!**

"Gabe? Gabe?! Gabe!" Adam's voice comes from the top of the cellar steps and jolts me out of my nightmare. I sit up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"I'm up, I'm up," I mutter. Adam sighs.

"Sorry, mate. You were yelling again."

I sigh as well. "Yeah, I figured I was. Thanks for waking me."

He smiles slightly. "Anytime. And, you _do _know that you can wake me up and I'll let you sleep on the couch, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I got here really early though," I lie. In reality, I got here around eleven last night. I just didn't want to bother Adam.

"Alright. Mom's making some pancakes. C'mon up and have some."

I grin despite myself. "Sounds great! I'll be up in a minute."

Adam laughs at my eager expression before heading back into the kitchen, leaving the cellar doors wide open so that the delicious smell of pancakes will tempt me up. He knows that most mornings I would just slip out the other set of cellar doors that open to the outside of the house, grabbing an apple to eat on the way. It's what I normally do when I crash in his cellar after Dad kicks me out. I never stay for long. I slip back home after school, when Dad's forgotten whatever I did and has gone back to ignoring me. Chloe usually ignores me as well, though occasionally at school on a day after Dad's kicked me out, she'll come over and ask if I'm alright. That's the extent of our conversation though. She doesn't want more harassment than she's already getting for being the sister of the freak, and I don't want her to get more either.

Today's the day of the reaping though, and I'd rather not be sitting by the pond, watching the garbage float about while I eat an apple by myself, so I head up the cellar steps after Adam.

He and Emily, his little sister, are sitting at the table already, while their mother stands at the stove flipping pancakes. She smiles at me as I come in. "Hello Gabriel. Did you sleep alright?"

I catch Adam's worried look. We don't mention the nightmares to his mother, who's the closest thing to a mother I have. But he knows I have them, and he knows what they're about. "It was alright. Best sleep you can get before a reaping, right?"

Her smile turns into a frown. "Well, you don't have to worry about that, right? You don't have any tesserae, so you probably won't be reaped!"

Oops. How much am I hiding from her? I thought I had mentioned the tesserae before. Guess not. "Right, of course."

Emily watches me as I sit down. "They're not gonna choose you or Adam though, right? You only have your name in..." She closes one of her eyes and sticks her tongue between her teeth, trying to remember the number.

Adam laughs at her expression and says "Five. Five times. Right Gabe?" He gives me the look that he's been giving me for the past year. The one that says _I don't approve of what you're doing, and we both know it, but I'm going to help you out anyways, so the least you could do is back me up._

I nod. "Right. Five times. Not going to be picked."

* * *

_He grins at me as we walk to the reaping together. "Relax, Gabe. They're not going to pick you. You're only fifteen, and you don't have much tesserae. Your name's in there, what? Eight times?"_

_ "Yeah. How many times is your name in there?"_

_ His carefree grin disappears. "Ten. But that's not too many! I mean, some people have their name in there about forty times! I might not be picked. There's a good chance I won't be. Trust me on this, okay?"_

_ "Okay, fine, I will. Just worried."_

_ "I know you are. But you don't have to be. It's not going to be me."_

Adam's hand hits my cheek. "Ow! What was that for?!"

"You were completely spaced out! I tried to get your attention, but..."

"I was out of here."

"It's been a year, Gabe. Don't you think you should..."

"Should what? Forget about it?" I try to keep my voice steady. "Don't you think I have?"

Adam looks sympathetic, and even though I know he doesn't mean to, I wish he wouldn't pity me. I don't need pity. I need to make sure that people won't forget him.

Lucretia Gray walks up to the microphone and taps on it. It squeals, and all of us cover our ears. You'd think they would teach the escorts not to do that. Or maybe they tell them to do it as an added torture. Whatever the reason, they do it every year.

"Hello District Eight! Are you all ready for the Fifty-sixth Hunger Games?" No one cheers. They didn't cheer last year either. Lucretia looks slightly disappointed, but continues anyways. "Well, let's pick the tributes then!"

She walks over to the girls' ball and grabs a slip.

_"Samantha Cathen!" A tiny girl with brown curls walks towards the stage. She won't make it out. I can tell that instantly, and I feel bad for her family that must already be mourning her._

I shake myself out of the memories in time to hear the name. "Susan Kedves!"

A girl with blonde pigtails steps out of the thirteen year old section. The thing that strikes me the most about her is her face. It's not messed up or anything like that. It's strong. She looks brave, and doesn't look on the verge of tears at all, unlike most twelve or thirteen year olds who are reaped. I smile slightly, despite the fact that she'll probably die. She's a fighter. Two years in a row, District Eight will have a fighter in the arena.

Lucretia greets her happily, before picking the second slip. I have to fight to keep myself here and not slip into the memories. It's hard, because as she's unfolding the slip, all I'm expecting to hear is his name, a name I haven't heard for almost a year, a boy who I haven't seen for almost a year.

"Gabriel Pearson!"

Or she could say my name. That was my other guess.

I force my feet to move forwards, and the rest of the sixteen year old clump parts. I glance quickly at one of the screens, and smile slightly when I see that I don't look terrified. Instead, I look almost bored.

When I get on stage, Lucretia greets me before asking for volunteers. There aren't any, of course. Who would volunteer? I don't expect Adam to. I know he would, if it weren't for Emily. I search the twelve year old girl clump for Chloe. She looks surprised, but I can't tell if she's upset or pleased. I don't think she'd necessarily be _pleased, _but maybe she's not upset at all, and just sees me as another tribute, and not as her brother at all.

Lucretia clasps her hands together happily. "Well, then! District Eight, your tributes for the Fifty-sixth Annual Hunger Games; Susan Kedves and Gabriel Pearson! Shake hands you two!"

I hold out my hand to Susan, who surprises me by taking it immediately, studying me quietly as she shakes it, as if she wants to find something out. We're ushered into the Justice Building quickly though, and I figure she'll ask on the train or in the Capitol.

We don't have much time in our lives left, but we've got a long journey ahead of us.


	2. Use me as you will

I sit on the couch in the room, staring around it. I was here a year ago, to say my final goodbye. I never saw or spoke to him again after that.

_He's trying his best to stay cheerful, but I can see the slight fear in his eyes. Usually they're bright and happy. They would still look like that to an outsider. He's hiding his fear well. But I know him, and I can see the fear. "Did you get a token?" _

_ He slaps his forehead with the palm of his hand. "A token! I knew I was forgetting something!" _

_ I reach into my pocket and pull out the bracelet I carry to every reaping, in case I'm the one chosen. It was my mother's, before she left. I hand it to him. "Use this."_

_ He looks at me, disbelieving. "Gabe, I can't take this."_

_ "Yes, you can. I'm making you." I smile slightly. "You can return it when you get back."_

_ He smiles as well, and a little bit of that fear in his eyes disappears. _

The door of the present day Justice Building room opens, and Adam and Emily come in with their mother. Emily immediately flings her arms around me, while Adam and their mother stay back a bit. I'll talk to them in a minute. First I'm going to get Emily calmed down.

I kneel down to her height. "Hey there, Em."

She's trying to wipe away the tears as quickly as possible. "Y-you'll win, r-right?"

"'Course I will. And when I come back, you guys will come and live with me in the Victor's Village." I smile at her, trying to reassure her that it'll be alright. "And I'll have enough money that you can eat ice cream for every meal."

She giggles slightly, before reaching up and unclipping one of her bow clips from her hair. She hands it to me. "Take it with you. For your... thingy."

I laugh quietly. "My token? Okay."

She hugs me tightly, refusing to let go, even when I straighten back up again to talk to Adam and her mother. "I'll be fine. I can hide, and I'm not too bad at hand to hand."

Adam nods. "I know. You can win this, Gabe. I know you can."

"Thanks." They join the group hug, and I hug all three of them as tightly as I can, not wanting to let go. But we have to, when the Peacekeeper opens the door and says that the time's up. Adam takes Emily's hand. "We'll see you in a few weeks," he promises, before leaving with his family.

I'm not expecting any more visitors. And I don't get anymore. Not for a while, at least. I spend the time staring out the window at the town square, watching the free people walk around. When there's only a few more minutes left before we have to leave for the train, I hear the door open behind me. "I thought you weren't going to come."

"I wasn't sure myself." Chloe responds, closing the door behind her. I turn around.

"Dad know you're here?" She shakes her head. "I didn't think so."

I don't hear any pleading in her voice when she talks. "I didn't really want him to know."

"Right, of course not. Why tell your father that you're going to say goodbye to your brother before he dies?"

She crosses her arms. "That's not fair Gabriel."

"Neither is what you and Dad are doing to me! And you don't hear me complaining!"

"Right now I am."

I roll my eyes. "Chloe, you came here for a reason."

She shrugs. "I wanted to say goodbye. And... Don't lose yourself in the memories, Gabriel. Please."

"Too late. They'll be everywhere."

Chloe sits down on the couch, watching me quietly for a minute, until she finally says "I never understood what you found so attractive in him. I mean, sure, he was good looking, but..."

I stare out the window. "It wasn't just his looks. It was... him."

She sighs. "Gabriel, you have no clue how stupid you sound."

I look over at her, trying not to get too annoyed. "What?"

"He never gave you a second glance. You were just a tool for him."

"That's not what it was like."

"That's what it sounds like it was like."

I shake my head, looking out the window again. "It wasn't. You weren't there. You never... saw it."

"Saw what? Saw him return your love?"

"No. He might not have loved me, but he cared about me. I know he did."

"Right. Of course he did."

"You don't believe me?"

"Of course I don't believe you! Gabriel, you're the laughing stock of the district!"

"Not because of that."

"Yes, because of that!" Chloe's standing up now, looking more agitated and upset. "Everyone knows that you were completely and utterly in love with him! And everyone but you can see who he loved instead!"

I turn around. "Don't say it! Don't you _dare_ say it!"

She sighs. "You have to face the truth sometime."

"It's not the truth!"

"It is, Gabriel. And you know it is. You just don't want to admit it."

I glare out the window, feeling more annoyed by the second, pushing the memories back as hard as I can, but they keep leaking through.

_"What?! No!"_

_ "Please?" His ally's practically pleading now. "They might have trouble believing that a perfectly healthy tribute just wandered into their camp. But one that's injured might be believable."_

_ He takes the knife. "Alright..."_

_ He cuts down the side of his ally's face. I wish he'd dig the knife in harder. Cause him more pain. But he's gentle, as if he wants to hurt him as little as possible. His ally opens his eyes again. "Thanks."_

_ He nods. "Just be careful."_

_ His ally grips his shoulders tightly, and I wish I was there so that I could punch him. "Try not to worry, okay? Four more tributes will be dead by the end of the day, I promise."_

"Gabriel?! Gabriel?!" Chloe's shaking my shoulder, sounding like she's on the verge of tears. I come back to the present, and realise that my fingers are digging into the window sill as if it's the only thing keeping me alive.

I take a few deep breaths. "I'm fine. I'm back. I'm okay."

Chloe takes a few steps back. "Okay. Well, you've got to go in a minute. Just win, okay Gabriel? Please?"

I nod. "Of course Chloe."

She nods, and, after a moment of hesitation, hugs me tightly. "I'll see you soon."

I hug her back. "Just a couple of weeks. Then it'll get better. Promise."


	3. Setting fire to our insides

Lucretia leads Susan and I into the room where we'll meet our mentors. My eyes widen. This is way fancier than anything we'd see at home in Eight. Lucretia laughs at our expressions. "Sit down and relax! I'm going to go get Carissa and Brook!"

She clops out of the room, leaving Susan and I standing there awkwardly. We're quiet for a minute, before she smiles at me and says "I'm afraid to sit down. I think I'll break the seat."

I smile back. "Agreed."

She walks over to the table and tosses me an apple. "Here. You can't break that."

"But I could use it to break something," I say as I catch the apple.

She giggles and bites into her own apple, watching me quietly as she chews. When she's done, she says "My parents told me not to talk to you. I don't know why though."

"No, you know why. You just don't want to say it."

"You don't get what I mean. I don't mean 'my parents said don't talk to you, but they didn't give me a reason.' They gave me one. I just think it's a stupid one, and I don't know why I shouldn't talk to you because of it."

"They're worried I'll brainwash you."

She laughs. "No one could brainwash me! I'm too headstrong. That's what my mom always called me."

I smile. "You're not scared of me then? Don't think I'm a freak?"

"Nah, I think you're normal. Everyone who calls you a freak is the freak."

The doors behind her open, and two women in their thirties come in. The older one starts talking. "Right, let's get down to business, shall we? I'm Carissa, this is Brook. We're your mentors." She points at me, a teasing grin on her face. "Susan?"

Susan laughs and says "No, I'm-"

I interrupt her, grinning right back at Carissa. "Right."

Carissa laughs and Susan covers her mouth to hide her giggles. "You're coming with me." She points at the actual Susan. "Gabriel, go with Brook. She always takes the girl, even with a guy name."

"Or is it Gabrielle?" Brook says.

She's still giggling like mad. "Just Gabriel."

Brook smiles and leads her into the next car. Carissa gestures for me to sit down. "Are you good at any weapons or fighting already?"

"Not any weapons, but I'm good at hand to hand combat."

"Good, good, that'll come in handy. How about any survival skills? Tree climbing, edible plants?"

It shouldn't have been a trigger. I don't know why it triggers the memory. Maybe it's just the surroundings, but I feel myself slipping again.

_"We're getting low on supplies. Do you know any edible plants?"_

_ "Uh, no. I suck at them, actually. Completely failed it in training."_

"Gabriel?! Gabriel, are you alright?!" I jolt back, head and heart aching. "Yeah, sorry. I have this... thing."

Carissa leans forward, looking both worried and interested. "Thing? What kind of thing?"

"I... I'm not sure how to explain it. I space out a lot. I kind of... disappear, I guess would be the best way to describe it."

"Is it triggered?" I nod. "By what?"

"Memories."

"Of last year?" Carissa's eyes are filled with sympathy.

I try not to feel too awkward. "You've heard then."

"Victors aren't completely out of it." She hesitates before adding "He mentioned you once."

"Really? When?"

"When we were practising for the interviews."

The interviews. Some people say it's proof.

_Caesar leans back in his seat, laughing. "You're a funny one! Pretty handsome too! Must be quite a ladies' man. Got a special girl back home?"_

_ His eyes widen slightly, and his hand goes to his bangs, overgrown to cover the scar. "Um, no, no girlfriend."_

_ Caesar laughs again. "I don't believe it for a second! Surely the girls must be after you?"_

_ He smiles slightly and shrugs. "You'd have to ask them yourself. I don't know much about that sort of thing."_

"Gabriel? Oh Gabriel, I'm so sorry!"

I shake my head, clearing the image of him talking to Caesar from it. "It's fine. Can we go back to the plants, please?"

* * *

Susan and I sit down in front of the TV to watch the recap with Carissa, Brook and Lucretia.

District One has two volunteers; Mist Byar and Gleam Adriat. Nothing unusual there.

District Two makes my head start to spin. The boy- Cor Simon- is the typical District Two tribute, but the girl reawakens memories. Paige Kild. Kild. Her sister was in the Games last year. Cruel and sadistic. I have to hope Paige is nothing like her sister. Or, if she is, that she doesn't get me.

My head's pounding, and the next few districts are a blur, as it takes all my self-control to stay calm. I have to bite my lip- hard enough that it starts to bleed- just so that I don't lose myself in the memories.

We reach District Six. This was his district. The one who killed him, that is.

Their escort picks the first name. "Iona Withers!"

A fourteen year old girl walks to the stage. The escort picks the second name. "Linus Shatern!"

My mind shatters.

_"You're good Eight, but not good enough."_

_ A scythe swinging through the air._

_ Blood. Lots of it. Everywhere. Covering him. Covering both of them. _

_ "I want him dead! I just want him to die the most painful way ever, for what he did!"_

I don't even realise that I've left the room until I'm in the bathroom down the hall, throwing up into the toilet. The door opens a minute later, and Carissa kneels down beside me, wrapping her arms around me once I'm done. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry..."


	4. Time to begin

"Ooo, we got a pretty one this year!" Carlasa says, reaching out and ruffling my hair. I reach up and swat her hand away. She just giggles. "Relax, pretty boy!"

"Don't call me that," I respond, doing my best to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

"Feisty! I like it! They're going to love you! Your _spirit_ and your _looks!_ Perfect!" Rive says.

I scowl at him. "I don't have looks."

Geld laughs. "Insecure? You shouldn't be, pretty boy!"

"Stop calling me that!"

The three of them just laugh, and I sigh. I can't wait until they're gone.

* * *

I stand beside the chariot waiting for Susan and try not to scowl too much. Lea, my stylist, seemed to have decided that bright colours splattered everywhere was the best way to go. That, or she's actually blind and just threw paint until she decided that it must be okay. I hear a laugh behind me. "You look ridiculous!"

I turn around. It's the girl from Twelve, blonde hair sticking out from underneath her coal miner helmet. "So do you."

She shrugs. "At least I don't look like a rainbow threw up on me."

I grin. "True. But yours doesn't scream 'Creativity!'"

"Better than just coal dust. Though I think the Capitol would appreciate that."

"Probably. They're all pedos and pervs."

"I like you Eight." She holds out her hand. "I'm Sash."

"Sash? Sounds like a District One name. I'm Gabriel," I respond, shaking her hand.

She rolls her eyes. "I know, right?" My parents own the clothes shop, so they thought it would be a fitting name. I'm always told I sound like I'm from One. That, or Eight."

"Eight's not a bad place to be mistaken to be from."

"No, I guess not. Still, I'm a proud District Twelve citizen, unlike _some_ people." The way she says _some people _makes me curious. "Some people?

"Yeah. Some people- more specifically, the Seam kids- hate living in Twelve. But I understand why. I mean, they're starving."

"The Seam kids are the poor kids?"

Sash nods. "I try to help out the couple of them that are my friends. But for the most part, merchant and Seam kids stay away from each other."

"That's pretty nice of you."

"What's pretty nice of her? And who is she?" Susan appears at my elbow, wearing the same tunic as I am, colours splattered all over it.

"Sash. I'm from Twelve," she responds to Susan before turning to me. "I take it she's your district partner?"

I nod. "Susan."

"Well, nice to meet you Susan. As for you," she winks at me, "I'll see you tomorrow at training."

I smile. "See you."

After Sash has left, Susan turns to me. "Potential ally?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure yet. I don't even know if I _want _allies."

She's quiet for a moment before softly asking, "Because of last year?"

_"Allies?"_

_ His blue eyes are wide and glance around quickly before nodding. He follows the boy into the woods, and I feel my heart sinking. He doesn't know if he can trust this kid or not. What if he tries to kill him? How could he be so stupid? How could he risk his life like that? How could he-_

Susan's hand on my arm brings me back. "Gabriel?"

I shake my head, clearing the image of woods and children out of my mind. "I'm fine. And I don't know. Maybe. Maybe I just don't want to risk the attachment."

"Sometimes the risk is worth it."

I'm about to respond but Lucretia comes over and ushers us up onto the chariot. "Time to go!"

We grip the side of the chariot as we start to roll forward. District One goes through the doors, Mist and Gleam holding their heads high. After them goes Paige and Cor, Paige's face void of expression while Cor smiles at the crowd, even if it's slightly hesitant. I look away as District Three rolls out, followed by Four, whose tributes I can't remember the names of. District Five's girl stares at the ground, as if she knows she won't cause as much excitement as Banner did last year. District Six follows them and I struggle to stay calm as I watch Linus roll out. I ran out before I saw him on the recaps. He's much younger than I thought he would be, only about twelve, but he has the same blonde hair and brown eyes as his brother. District Seven's tributes look nothing alike. No chance of them being cousins like last year. Then it's our turn.

The roar of the crowd is deafening. I'm not even sure who they're cheering for. They could all be cheering for the same person as far as I can tell. Susan grins up at me and says something. "What?!" I ask back, raising my voice so that she can hear me over the crowd.

She laughs. "I said, isn't this great?!"

I think about it for a minute. The idea's sick, and I feel like an idiot. But at the same time, it's awesome. Besides, everyone else looks and probably feels like an idiot as well. And not even _we _compare to the actual Capitol citizens. "Yeah, I guess it is!"

By the time we reach the steps, the crowd has basically rendered me deaf. When President Snow waves his hand for silence, my ears are ringing so much that I can barely make out what he's saying. "Salute." "Courage." "Sacrifice." "Honour." Susan rolls her eyes, so I can only assume it's his usual pile of crap. After he's done talking, we roll out again.

Carissa high fives each of us in turn as we get off the chariot. "Good... guys... definitely... a... sponsors..."

I smack my ears a few times, trying to get rid of the ringing. "What?!"

Brook laughs but I don't hear it, and Carissa gives me two thumbs up and mimes something falling from the sky. I assume she means a parachute. "Great!"

She leads us towards the elevator. "C'mon... let's... Gabriel... for... ringing... his..."

"What?!" I ask again. Susan smacks my ears over and over again. "Ow, stop!"

Her head tilts back slightly, and I assume she's laughing. She points at an avox and then back at me. "Oh. We're looking for something for my ears?" She nods. "Why didn't you just say so in the first place?"

Susan just rolls her eyes.


	5. Just a dream

The next morning, Susan and I head down to training together. We're dressed in the typical black and red training gear with white eights on our backs and sleeves. Susan plays with a loose thread while I press the '0' button that will bring us down to the main floor. "All this new technology makes me so nervous," she says. "I don't trust it."

"They've been using it for years, I'm sure it will be fine." The elevator starts moving, much slower than I would like. It's so small. _Stop! Don't think about it! Breathe..._

Eventually we reach the ground and I stumble out of the much-too-small box after Susan. She gives me a curious look. "You alright?"

I nod. "Let's get to training. Learning how to kill children! Fun!" I add sarcastically.

She giggles and we head into the massive training room. From the walls hang swords and maces, racks of spears and arrows, targets painted to look like human beings. Mats are laid out on the ground for practise fights. At least they're providing some form of safety.

Sash waves us over from where she's standing with her district partner. He looks about fifteen or so, and absolutely nothing like her. Where her skin is pale, his is olive. Where her eyes are blue, his are a silvery gray. Where her hair is blonde, his is dark brown. It's hard to believe they're from the same district. "This is Liber. Liber, this is Gabriel and Susan."

Liber gives us a small nod, and Sash explains to us that he doesn't want to associate with any of the other tributes. "He refuses to consider the idea of an alliance. He says that he's able to take care of himself and doesn't need anyone else."

"Might be a smart plan..." I hear Susan murmur, low enough that I can just barely hear her.

Sash gives me a bright smile. "Well, it's nice seeing you when you look normal! You look much more pleasant!"

"Thanks. You look a little less ridiculous as well." It's true. Her outfit last night was baggy enough that she looked like a little girl dressing up in her parents' clothing.

She grins and we join the semicircle of tributes around the head trainer, who goes over the instructions for training and gives us a friendly reminder not to kill each other yet. When she's done, Sash turns to the two of us. "Where do you want to start?"

I glance around the room, trying to decide what seems most useful. Before I can decide though, Susan pulls me away from Sash saying that she needs to talk to me. "What's wrong?"

She takes a deep breath before talking. "I don't want to be in an alliance. Not because of you or anything!" she quickly adds. "I just don't want to have to watch an ally die."

I nod. "I get it."

She smiles. "Thanks Gabriel. Good luck with your alliance with Sash. I hope it works out well."

* * *

Sash and I spent most of our days at either survival stations or going from weapon to weapon. She's good at daggers, spears and throwing axes, as well as being brilliant at identifying edible plants. The nimble fingers that most District Eight citizens have make me good at tying knots and making nets. I'm also pretty good with weapons, especially blades.

I space out a lot over the next few days, and it's pure torture to be in the same spot where he would have spent his last few days. But I manage to deal.

At least until the night before the private sessions.

* * *

It ends like the past few nights do. Susan and I say goodnight to Carissa and Brook, head to our rooms, say goodnight to each other, go into our rooms. I change into pyjamas and climb into bed. My room's darker than I was expecting it would be when I came here. I had expected the bright lights of the Capitol to keep it lit up, but it's fairly dark. I close my eyes and drift into sleep.

* * *

The light in the room hasn't changed much when I wake up, but something's definitely different. It only takes me a second to realise what. A boy's sitting on top of the dresser, legs swinging like they always did whenever we talked, floppy ginger hair falling into his bright blue eyes, his lips forming the manic grin that I know so well. He still looks sixteen, and has a scar around his neck. It's been a year since I've seen him, but I recognize him instantly. "Hi."

He laughs, head tilting back in that oh-so-familiar way. "Hi! I've been dead for a year, and that's the first thing you say to me?"

I sit up in bed. "It's usually how people start conversations."

"I'm not exactly a person though, am I?"

"You look like one. You got your head back."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," he replies sarcastically.

I widen my eyes slightly. "Really? That's terrible! Someone should have told you!"

He laughs again, head resting lightly back against the wall. I feel my lips twitch. "You can't go through walls, then?"

He shakes his head slightly. "Only when I want to."

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, shivering at the feel of the cold floor on my bare feet. "What about people?"

He grins. "Gabriel Pearson. Are you_ challenging_ me?"

"Yeah, maybe a little."

He presses his lips tightly together, eyebrows furrowing slightly, just like he always does when he's concentrating hard. Slowly he sticks his hand into my head and wiggles it. I shiver. "That feels so fucking weird."

He laughs and mock whacks me upside the head. "Language!"

I grin up at him. "You swear just as much as I do, and you know it."

He laughs again and pulls his hand back out. "But you'll never see me admit it!"

I lean back onto my elbows. "I've missed talking to you. Well, actually, I've missed all of you."

"I know," he says quietly, avoiding my eyes.

"I don't blame you though. I mean, the guy was massive, and you _tried..._"

He looks back at me. "Why won't you admit it? You know I was giving up. Why won't you admit it to yourself?"

My mouth drops open and I stammer. "I- I- I don't know..."

"I do. It's because it would be like finally admitting to yourself that they're right." His eyes are sad. "Why would that be so horrible, Gabe?"

"Because it would be like saying I had a chance but just wasn't good enough," I say quietly. "It hurts less to believe that I just never had a chance."

He sits down next to me. "You'll see me again soon, you know."

"No." I even surprise myself by the fierceness in my voice. "I'm winning. I'm coming back. I'm going to make sure that they don't forget you."

He shakes his head. "You're not a murderer Gabe. You can try to convince yourself otherwise, but I know you. You're not."

I wake up with my hands clamped over my ears and my face buried in the pillow. I blink back the tears. _It was just a dream. Just a dream. _His words echo in my brain. _You're not a murderer. _

_Yeah? Well I thought the same thing about you, too._

The memories come rushing back and for once, I don't try to stop them.

_I watch him attach the bracelet around his wrist quietly for a minute, before asking, "How are you going to be able to do it?"_

_ He looks up. "Do what?"_

_ "Kill people. I mean, you're... you. You're not a killer."_

_ He smiles slightly. "I'm glad you have such faith in me." He shrugs. "Maybe I can make it to the finale by hiding, and then I can just slit the last tribute's throat. Make it fast."_

Make it fast. _I didn't think anything of the words then, but now they're like poison. "You think you'll be able to do even that? It's still killing someone. It's still..."_

_ "Not something I would do," he says quietly. "I know."_

I bite my lip to keep from screaming. I've been doing that a lot over the past few days, and it's now red and sore, and the extra pain just makes it worse. The blood trickles down my chin and I can't even be bothered to wipe it away. I don't even notice that I've started crying. I just curl up tighter though, squeezing my eyes tightly shut.

I don't know how long I stayed there like that. I don't _care_ how long I stayed like that. Everything seemed to hurt, especially my heart, and I just didn't have the energy to move. I closed my eyes and slipped into a sleep filled with nightmares- nightmares of dying children, and snow stained with blood.


	6. Let them wonder what you've got

**Long chapter this time! Training scores, interviews, and the start of the Games!**

I drag myself downstairs in the afternoon, rubbing my sore lip. It's swollen, not very noticeably, but still a bit. Enough that it feels weird. Susan looks up, worried, when I come into the lunchroom, but stays at her spot. It's Sash that comes over. "Where were you?"

I've told her about the spacing out. I'm pretty sure she would understand. But at the same time, it's not something that I'm dying to tell her. _"Oh, I was just having a mental breakdown." _Instead I just say "My mentor had to talk to me." and we leave it at that.

I don't eat much, which Sash laughs at. "I never would have pinned you as one to have a nervous stomach."

"Yeah, nerves," I laugh nervously. It's not nerves. Just general misery. I don't know how I'm going to be able to focus during my session.

Before too long, "Gleam Adriat" is announced and Gleam leaves the room. After a little while it's "Mist Byar" and then the rest of the names are just a blur, until finally it's "Gabriel Pearson."

"Good luck," Sash says quietly. I nod and head into the room. Once there, I wonder what I should do. Probably blades, since that would get me a higher score. But I should do a mixture of both weapons and survival skills, to show that I can survive as well as fight. I'll start with the blades, and then I'll make a net.

I pick up the closest blade and set to work on the first dummy. After I've spent about five minutes or so cutting up dummies, I head over to the ropes station, feeling the eyes of the Gamemakers on me the entire time. One of the woman's looks more like a leer, and I try not to feel too violated. Pedophile.

I kneel down on the ground and start tying the ropes together. It doesn't take long before I have the net finished. I glance over at the clock. I still have five minutes left. There's a pile of mats in the corner. Too bad we can't practise fight with the trainers, or I would do hand-to-hand. I'm not as good at it as I am at blades, but I'm still good.

My eyes scan the room, searching for anything that I could do to get a higher mark. They land on the two climbing structures, finishing a few meters before they hit the ceiling. If I could attach the net between them, I could climb back and forth, showing a few skills at once.

I tie the net around me and head up the closest of the two of them. Once at the top, I tie one side of the net around the top few handholds. Holding onto the other end, I jump across the few meters between the structures. I land on my side on the other one, rolling across it and over the edge, my grip on the net the only thing holding me up. I hear the Gamemakers gasp in shock and I clench my teeth. I have to get back up. Unfortunately, I fell over the side _without _handholds, and have only the net to pull myself back up. More unfortunately still, is the fact that half the net is unstable, and I'm going to have a hard time getting back up. I look down at the floor. Nope. Too far away to jump. I'd break my neck from this height. I reach up and grab hold of the next loop of the net, trying to pull myself up. It swings dangerously, and I close my eyes. _Relax. Focus. _

I continue pulling myself back up, bracing my feet against the wall whenever the net starts to swing too much. Once I reach the top, I crawl back across to the side with handholds and climb back down to the floor, hoping that it will be enough to earn myself around a six.

* * *

The five of us sit on the couch, Lucretia scolding the rest of us for "sitting like the buffoons we obviously were raised like." Carissa's sitting on the back of the couch, and by the sound of it, does this every year since she was reaped without fail. Brook is sitting with her back to the armrest, feet up on the sofa. Susan's curled up next to me, feet pulled up to her chest, mimicking my position. On-screen is Caesar Flickerman, organizing the sheets with the training scores written on them, silver hair shining under the lights. He grins at us. "Hello Panem! For the past three days, our tributes have been trained in the art of survival. This morning, our Gamemakers marked them on a score from 1 to 12, judging how well they think that they'll do. And here are the scores."

With each name, the tribute's face appears with the score shining in front of it.

"Gleam Adriat, from District One, with a score of... 10.

Mist Byar, from District One, with a score of... 7.

Cor Simon, from District Two, with a score of... 9.

Paige Kild, from District Two, with a score of... 10."

It continues like this for a while, the District Four Careers each scoring a nine. Most of the other tributes score fives or sixes. Finally, they get to District Eight.

"Gabriel Pearson, from District Eight, with a score of... 8."

Carissa falls off the back of the couch in shock, and the other three stare at me. I stare at the silver eight on the screen. An eight. That's a Career score. Not only that, it's higher than a Career's score. How did I manage to do that?

Carissa scrambles back to her feet, laughing. "An eight! That's amazing!" She ruffles my hair, still laughing. "Great job!"

I grin at her, and turn my attention back to the screen as Caesar announces Susan's score.

"Susan Kedves, from District Eight, with a score of... 6."

Brook grins at Susan. "A six! That'll get you noticed for sure!"

Susan smiles. "Thanks."

The rest of the scores are in the usual four to six range, with Sash scoring a seven. I feel a sense of pride for her. Despite only knowing her for a few days, she's become the best friend I have here.

* * *

The following day, after enduring an hour of torture with Lucretia, I sit down across from Carissa in her room. "What should my angle be?"

She smiles at me. "You're an interesting one, Gabe. You see, with your score we could do bloodthirsty. But you're too friendly and open. We could play off that, but that's not memorable enough. You need to be remembered. You _want _to be remembered."

"Then why not do that? Unforgettable."

"And how will you be unforgettable?"

"I'll give them something to remember me by. I'll tell them what I'm fighting for."

"By making yourself unforgettable, you make him unforgettable?"

I nod. "I don't want him to be forgotten."

"There'll be a mixed reaction, you know."

I stare down at my hands, a scar still crossing over the back of the left one, one of the two I still have from that first beating. Dad only needed an excuse, it seemed, to let all his anger and disappointment in me to bubble over. I hadn't even realised I was that much of a disappointment. "I know."

Carissa sighs and leans back in her chair. "On your own head be it."

I flinch and she gives me a look of pity. "Sorry. I mean, um... Good luck?"

"Yeah, that's a little better than decapitation."

* * *

I stand backstage, trying to stay calm and not freak out too much. Susan's on stage right now, smiling at the audience in her usual carefree way. "Well, my parents both work in the factories," she explains to Caesar, responding to his question about her family. "And I don't have any older or younger siblings."

"Well, that's a pity. Siblings are always fun," Caesar replies.

She nods eagerly, the curls her stylist gave her bouncing around her shoulders. "I wish I had siblings. But my mom got really sick after having me, and she couldn't have anymore children."

A sympathetic murmur goes through the crowd and I smile to myself. _That's it Susan. _Caesar nods sympathetically. "Tragic. Do you have any friends who are doubtlessly cheering you on right now?"

"Yes, a few. I hope I make them proud. Same with my parents."

"I'm sure they will be." The buzzer sounds and Caesar raises Susan's hand. "Susan Kedves, District Eight!" The Capitol cheers, and Susan bounces off stage.

"Next up, our second District Eight tribute, who surprised us all with his training score, Gabriel Pearson!"

I take a deep breath and walk on stage. The Capitol's cheering is even louder than it was backstage, and I hope that I don't go half deaf again. Fortunately when Caesar asks the first question, I can hear him. "So, Gabriel, what's the story behind your training score?"

I smile slightly. "Should have known you would ask that Caesar. Unfortunately, I can't tell you. Classified between the Gamemakers and I."

Caesar sighs. "Every year. I should stop asking, shouldn't I? Well, if you won't tell me that, would you care to tell me about District Eight?"

"Sure, what would you like to know first?"

"Standard questions. Family? Friends?" He winks. "Girlfriend?"

"I have a father and younger sister, Chloe. My mom left when I was nine. My best friend is a kid called Adam, and his little sister Emily is like a second sister to me. As for a girlfriend," I smile slightly, "that's not really my area."

Caesar catches my hint. "Oh! Well, do you have anyone then?"

_There it is! Now! Now's your chance! _"Well, not anymore. You see, I had someone once, who didn't return my feelings, but I cared about them anyways. Unfortunately, they were killed in last year's Hunger Games."

Caesar looks even more surprised, if possible. "Oh! Well, that's unfortunate."

I nod. "Yeah, yeah it is."

"Though I don't think anyone could blame you. He was a very charming boy."

I smile slightly, remembering his voice saying almost the same thing to me. _"Oh please, you just wish you could be this charming!" "This egotistical?" "I am not egotistical! I'm just confident and see my own amazing worth!" _"Yeah, he was."

"I take it you've missed him, then?"

"Yeah. But it's not in vain. I'm fighting to make sure he's not forgotten."

"Well, I'm sure no one will be forgetting either of you anytime soon." The buzzer sounds and Caesar raises my hand like he did with Susan. "Gabriel Pearson, District Eight!"

* * *

Carissa wakes me up at dawn the next morning, sadness clouding her hazel eyes. "Gabe? It's time to go."

I slide out of beds, feeling numb all the way down to my bones. At the foot of my bed is a pile of warm clothes, all yellow. I guess that's the colour for Eight this year. I pull them on; long-sleeved shirt; warm pants and socks; heavy boots with traction on the bottom, built to keep me from slipping; warm sweater. I'll be getting whatever jacket I'll need in the Launch Room from Lea. By the looks of it, I'll definitely be needing a warm one.

Before I leave the room, I make sure to grab Emily's bow clip from the bedside table. I don't want to forget my last piece of home. If I focus really hard, I can almost smell her. Or maybe it's just a hallucination.

Carissa stays beside me all the way up the elevator to the roof. Once we're there, we turns me to face her. "You can do this Gabriel."

"I think I can..."

"Know."

"What?"

"Don't think. Know." She glances at the hovercraft, where a Capitol attendant is waiting impatiently for me, before looking back at me and gripping my sides of my head tightly. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

I nod and she releases me, giving me an encouraging smile. I head onto the hovercraft, accepting the tracker that they insert into my arm with what's probably the biggest needle I've ever seen. The ride to the Launch Rooms seems to take forever and only a second at the same time.

All of a sudden I'm standing in front of Lea, and she's helping me pull on a warm winter jacket, the same yellow as the rest of my clothes. "Good luck," she says in her Capitol accent, so thick that I can barely understand her.

She guides me into the glass tube, and it's only as the tube closes around me that I remember, with a moment of heart-clenching panic.

I'm claustrophobic.


	7. One will die before he gets there

At the top of the stairs back home there's a closet. It's not very big, only about a meter high and a meter deep. The width's the same as pretty much all closets. When I was nine, I brought home a test that I completely failed. I remember Dad lifting me up by the front of my shirt and stuffing me in there. I barely fit, even all scrunched up, and I could barely move or breathe. I was terrified, and completely freaked out. I remember pressing my hands against the walls as hard as I could, as if I could push them down, and crying for Dad to _just let me out, _and him not listening at all. I was like that for at least half an hour, before Chloe got home and got me out. She told me that Dad thought I was "acting out" because Mom left. I told her that I just failed a test because I didn't understand it. She told me Dad didn't care, and that I should just do as he said unless I wanted a repeat. I managed to for a while.

I feel like that now, stuck in this tube before it starts moving, my hands pressing hard against the glass, the same vain attempt to get out that I made when I was nine. Lea's staring at me in confusion, probably wondering why her normally calm tribute is suddenly freaking out.

I rest my head against the glass, trying to focus on breathing. Adam always told me to look at empty space if I can, but I don't think that'll help much now. It'll just remind me that I can't get to it. My hands clench into fists and I resist the urge to pound them into the glass to try and break it. I stare upwards, but there's only darkness, no arena sky to see yet. I never thought I'd wish to get into the arena faster, but now I am.

The jacket feels too tight around my neck, making it even harder to breathe. I pull at the zipper, tugging it up and down quickly. Lea's trying to say something to me, but all I see is her mouth moving, no sound. The plate beneath my feet starts moving, and my hands sting where they get pushed up along the glass. Soon it turns to stone and scrapes my hands. The scrapes sting, but they quickly fades away as a cool wind hits my face, and I catch my first glimpse of the arena.

Snow. That's all I see for a while. The area between the tributes and the Cornucopia is covered in snow. Then I notice a few other things. The first is that there's a forest surrounding us, also covered in snow. The second is that the foot or so surrounding the pedestal I'm standing on is covered in ice, but not snow. By the looks of it, the few meters closest to the Cornucopia are the same, with the inside just plain, hard, packed down earth. The Cornucopia's filled with the usual supplies; knives, spears, swords, maces, backpacks, crates. Nothing unusual.

The golden countdown at the center is still ticking. _34, 33, 32, 31. _To my left is Liber, eyes fixed on a backpack about halfway to the Cornucopia. I can't wonder if he'll make it there all right. I need to find Sash. I scan the tributes nearby, but I can't spot her anywhere. She must be on the other side of the horn. To my right, however, the girl from Seven is pulling something out of her pocket. She's right next to me, and I can just tell what it is- a small wooden ball- before she throws it onto the mines.

I drop to my knees and fling my arms over my head as the mines explode. Luckily they're small, or else I would be gone too. I hold my breath as some of the girl's blood hits the side of my face. She just got blown to bits. It completely ripped her apart. The first thought in my head is _Shit, this is actually happening._ In 15 seconds, I could be dead. The second thought is _She just killed herself. _Why? Why blow yourself up? Why not just... I don't know, stand still and wait for an axe to hit you?

The clock keeps counting down, as if nothing happened. I straighten back up again, getting ready to run for the center. The girl's blood is splattered across the snow, bright red against pure white. My stomach churns, and I force myself to focus on getting ready to run, on getting ready to find Sash.

_5, 4, 3, 2, 1. _"Ladies and gentlemen, let the 56th Annual Hunger Games begin!" The gong sounds and I leap off my plate.

The run to the Cornucopia isn't too bad, and I make it there without getting short on breath. The snow makes it harder to run, but the distance isn't too far. I sling a backpack over my shoulder and grab a the handle of a weapon lying on a crate. It's too long to be a knife, and too short to be a sword, but it's a blade. I can use it. I spot a length of rope nearby and stick that into my backpack as well. You never know when rope can come in handy.

With all the supplies I need, I head back out of the Cornucopia. A few tributes are just reaching it now, and most of the Careers are just leaving it. I can't spot Sash anywhere. I start to get a sinking feeling in my stomach. _Where is she?_

I race around to the other side of the Cornucopia. Gleam's just running back in, sword covered in some unfortunate tribute's blood. He swings at me as I run past, aiming for my chest, but I sidestep him, only getting cut on the arm. We both keep running in opposite directions. I finally reach the other side of the Cornucopia, and that's when I see her.

Lying twisted on the ground, blonde hair splayed out across the ground, chest stained red. Sash. She's still. I run over to her, shake her shoulder, but nothing. She's gone.

I slowly get back up to my feet. The fighting's still going on. I should get out of her fast, before I get killed. I can see Susan disappearing into the forest, and feel a small sense of relief among my grief, that at least she's alright. I spot another person though. Linus. He's running out of the Cornucopia. I could get him now. Get revenge for his death. I race after him, catching up easily and throwing him to the ground.

He rolls onto his back and scrambles backwards, brown eyes wide with terror. I raise my blade, ready to make this quick and easy. As painless as possible. But just as I'm about to bring it down again, his voice echoes in my mind. _You're not a murderer. _He was right. I'm not. Linus is only twelve, and he's never hurt anyone. It was his brother who killed him, not him. He should be allowed to make it out of the bloodbath, even if he won't make it out of the Games. I turn and run away from him, into the woods.

* * *

I run for a little while, ducking under low hanging branches or trees, before I hear it. A second set of feet running after me. I slip behind a tree, making sure that I stay quiet. I don't know if it's a Career or another tribute, but I don't want either to find me. The tribute goes running by and then stops, probably scanning the woods in front of them for me. They're pretty small though... They turn their head slightly, though not far enough to see me, and I recognize them.

"Are you following me?"

Linus spins around. "N-N-N-No..."

I walk towards him. "You're a really bad liar."

"Well, I was just..." He swallows hard and stares at the blade in my hand.

"You were just..." I prompt him.

"Just wondering why you didn't kill me." His eyes widen as if a thought just occurred to him. "Are you going to kill me now?"

"Not this time, Six. But next time you won't be as lucky. Now get out of here before I change my mind." Linus takes that advice and hightails it away from me as quickly as possible. I keep walking for a little while before brushing the snow off a log and sitting down. Might as well take inventory.

Along with the rope and blade, I managed to get a few packets of food, a blanket, a water bottle and purification tablets, and absolutely no bandages. I glance mournfully at the cut on my arm, still bleeding. It'll have to just stay like that for a while. I can't afford to lose any of my clothing in the cold climate. Unless...

I unzip my jacket and cut out a small strip of the inside, being careful not to remove any of the warm lining. I tie it around my cut, making sure that it's tight enough that it won't fall off, but not so tight that I'll cut off the circulation. I slide the blade into the slit in my jacket, where I'll be able to keep my hands free but still reach it. Perfect.

* * *

The anthem plays and the Capitol's seal appears in the sky, followed by the faces of the Fallen.

First is the girl from Three. She couldn't have been much older than fourteen. She's followed by the girl, and then the boy, from Five. Five must be disappointed after doing so well last year. After them comes Iona, Linus' district partner. After her is the girl from Seven. The one who blew herself up. The one whose blood is still on me. After her comes the girl from Nine. She's older than the girl they had last year, about fifteen or so, but did worse than her. Strange. Next are the boys from Ten and then Eleven. Finally, at the end of all of them, is Sash. I focus on her face, trying to memorize every detail, knowing that this is probably the last time I'll ever see her face. Then she too fades away to be replaced by darkness.

I curl up beside the log and wrap the blanket around me, using my pack as a pillow. It's hard, but eventually I manage to drift off into sleep.


	8. You still have all of me

The boom of a cannon wakes me the next morning. I uncurl myself and rub my legs to warm them up. I wonder who was killed. Hopefully not Susan. I know she's going to die eventually- thirteen year olds never win- but I want her to stay alive for as long as possible. I glance up at the sky through the branches of the trees. The good thing about being in a snowy arena is the sky seems to be fairly clear. For now, at least. The sun's almost halfway through it though, which means it's almost noon. Huh. That's the best sleep I've had in well over a year. Strange. Maybe I should've started risking my life earlier. Or do it more often.

I push myself to my feet and pull my backpack back on, stuffing the blanket in it as I go. I should probably start looking for some water or food. Berries or something like that, so that I don't have to rely on just my supplies. There doesn't seem to be any around here, so I set off through the woods.

Before too long the sound of rushing water reaches my ears and brings a smile to my face. I haven't had anything to drink since I left for the arena, and my mouth is completely dry. A few more meters of walking, and I'm out of the woods and on a small bank formed out of pebbles, slick from the water occasionally splashing up on them. The river itself is fast-moving, without an inch of ice on it. The Gamemakers must have done that, to make sure that the water was easily accessible. Or _easier. _The rush of the water is fast, and I'll have to keep a firm grip on the bottle to make sure that it doesn't get away.

I slowly make my way down the bank and dip the bottle into the river. The pull of the water is strong, but I manage to hold on, and, a minute later, pull a bottle filled with water back out. I drop one of the purification tablets in, and slide the bottle back into my pack. I might as well keep moving while I wait.

I have to head further down the river to cross though. The water's moving too quickly to wade through, not to mention how cold it'll be in this climate. Almost a mile down, I find a fallen tree. I climb onto it slowly, trying not to slip on the thin layer of ice and snow covering it. I'm about to cross, feet still firmly planted among the roots, when I feel my mind slipping out of my control.

_He walks around the tree, examining the branches, and I know he's looking for a way up. I know he's found one when a smile forms on his lips. "Yeah, I think so."_

_ He reaches up for a branch and his ally grabs his wrist. "You aren't think about climbing that, are you?"_

_ He lowers his arm. "Yeah, why?"_

_ The other boy pulls out his knife and stabs the tree. Cracks appear around it, showing that the entire tree's covered in a thin layer of ice. Like the one I'm on now._

The thought of the trees being the same jolts me back to the present, and I realise that I'm no longer on the tree. I'm lying on my side on the bank, my feet in the freezing cold water. I gasp from the cold and pull them back out. I didn't seem to injure myself during the fall, only a few cuts from the roots. That's good, at least.

I push myself back to my feet. Okay, a bit of soreness as well. Nothing I can't deal with. I pull myself back onto the tree and focus on staying in the present, despite my mind whispering the past to me.

_"It'll be easy!"_

Just twenty steps. One, two, three.

_"Wow, great advice there!"_

Four, five, six.

_"Aren't you supposed to be a genius?"_

Seven, eight, nine.

_"Laugh while you can." _

Ten, eleven, twelve.

_"As soon as I'm out of here, you're getting snow down your back."_

**Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.**

_"Yeah, but I don't want to kill you just yet!"_

**Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.**

_"What is it?"_

**Nineteen, TWENTY. **I fling myself off the tree, rolling across the snowy ground, breathing heavily. It's harder than I thought it would be, to stay in the present, when my mind's screaming for me to go to the past.

I grip my hair tightly, pulling at it. It hurts but it keeps me here. Where I need to be. Where I'll die if I'm not.

I lie there in the snow for a little while, trying to calm down and pull my mind back to myself. Even after a year like this, I still find it hard. I wonder if it'll ever be easy. I wonder if it matters. I might die here. I'll probably die here. I can fight, but can I kill? I don't know yet. I've had the chance twice so far, but I haven't taken it. Why? Why would I not take the chance to get rid of one more competitor?

Almost as if my thoughts had made them happen, screams pierce through the air. My first reaction is to cover my ears so I don't have to hear them. My second is to scramble to my feet to run away, so that I'm not next. My third is to pause and think _Something's familiar. _I uncover my ears and listen for a minute, and when I recognize them I'm into the woods at once, running in the direction of the noise. "Susan!"


	9. Over and over again

"Susan!" I run through the woods as quickly as I can, scrambling to stay upright in the snow. "Susan!"

She's still screaming. I head towards the noise, yelling for her the whole way. It's not a Career. It can't be. They wouldn't torture her this early in the Games, especially not with a kill only an hour ago. A mutt. It has to be a mutt.

I reach into my jacket and pull out the blade, ready to defend myself and Susan. Her screams are getting louder now, hinting that I'm getting close. Underneath her screams, I can hear whatever's attacking her. It's hissing, the noise completely inhuman. There's no doubt left in my mind. It's a mutt.

I skid into a clearing inhabited by two figures. The first is lying on the ground, whimpering in pain, her face almost unrecognizable from burns and stings. The second is crouched over her, but it's head whips up as I run in. I instinctively take a step back. _Shit..._

It's huge, first of all. Like a wall of black smoke, but... solid. I would say it was doglike, but it's tail's too much like a scorpion's, with a stinger on the end. It's paws seem to glow faintly, probably from heat. It doesn't have any real features though- no mouth, no ears, no nothing- except for a pair of golden eyes, in the same spot they would appear on a regular dog.

It stares at me for only a few seconds before leaping, paws forward. I duck under it and it lands a meter behind me. As I spin around to face it, it's tail jabs into my arm, sending a jolt of blinding white pain up it. I gasp and stumble slightly, striking out with the blade. It slices up the mutt's side, causing it to hiss in anger. It strikes out at me with one of its glowing paws. From this close, I can see that it has claws as well, burning like embers. I don't dodge fast enough this time, and my side erupts into flames. It's only momentary though- a "beauty" of the mutts, probably- before going out. The burning sensation stays though. It claws at me again, and I slash upwards, slicing it's paw clear off. It lets out a howl of pain, and I use the opportunity to duck under and stab it in the chest. It collapses, momentarily choking me before I shove it off.

"Susan?" Her cannon hasn't fired yet. She might still be alive. I scramble across the snow to her, pulling the stinger out as I go. It must have some kind of venom on it, because the woods are starting to spin. I reach Susan and gently lift her head into my lap. "Susan?"

Her eyes slowly open. "G-Gabriel?"

"Yeah, it's me..."

She smiles slightly. "G-Good... I w-wouldn't want t-to die in anyone else's a-arms..."

"You're not dying. Not now. Please... Please, not now, not like this..."

Tears are spilling down her cheeks, doubtlessly causing even more pain to her stings and burns. "I don't w-want to... B-But I d-don't have a-a cho-ice... Please... J-Just win..."

"'Course I will... I'll try to, at least..." I hope I'm not crying. I can't, for Susan's sake more than my own.

A slight laugh bubbles out of her mouth. "G-Good... Because otherwise my spirit's g-gonna have to kick y-your spirit's ass..."

I smile slightly. Even at the end, she's still Susan. Her cannon sounds a second later, and the smile slips away. "No... Susan... Susan, please... Please, come back... Don't be dead, just don't be dead... Please..."

She doesn't answer. Of course not, how could she? She's dead. Oh God, she's dead. Susan's dead. The woods spin faster and faster, and once again I wonder if the stinger had venom on it, before I fall backwards into the snow and everything goes dark.

* * *

_A girl stands in the woods a few meters in front of me. I can't see her face, but I would recognize her anywhere. "Chloe?"_

_She turns around, and I force myself not to wince. Her face is covered with the same scars and burns as Susan's. "Chloe, what happened?"_

_"You couldn't protect me, you numbrod! What else should I have expected from you? You fail at everything!" The pure hatred in my sister's voice startles me, but I manage to respond._

_"No, Chloe, I killed it. It shouldn't have been able to hurt you."_

_"But what's to stop them from throwing one into my Games?" _

_"Your Games? But... You're safe at home. Dad won't make you take out tesserae. You won't go in."_

_She scoffs. "You always were an idiot. Haven't you noticed how everyone you care about is dying?"_

* * *

_I'm trapped underwater. I think it's water, at least. I try to swim up towards the surface, but the liquid- whatever it is- is too thick. It takes forever, and I can feel my lungs starting to fill with it. I choke, and even more rushes in. I finally manage to struggle to the surface, and cough up whatever it was that was in my lungs. It's almost as horrible coming back up as it was going down, and when I wipe it out of my eyes, my hands come away red._

_I frown. My eyes aren't bleeding. I can tell that much, since I can still see. Then I take a closer look around me._

_Blood. Blood everywhere, as far as the eye can see. I'm literally swimming in it. The thought makes me throw up, but all that comes up is even more blood..._

* * *

_I'm sitting at the top of the stairs again, watching the shadows of my parents move around downstairs, hands moving animatedly to emphasize their stupid points over whatever pointless thing they're arguing about this time. Only I know how this ends. I saw it once before, seven years ago. _

_I'm about to turn away, not wanting to have to rewatch one of the worst nights of my first ten years- it's probably been outmatched by now, what with the decapitation and the beatings- only to find that I'm not able to. I can't turn away from it. I try to close my eyes, but I can't. I can't even blink. _

_Then it all begins._

_I can't actually see Mom and Dad, only their shadows, but I can make out their movements. I can make out Dad's fist rising and striking down against Mom's face. _

_But that's not what happened. I only have about a second to consider this before I'm flinging myself against the invisible wall, trying desperately to get out of this prison. I can't get through of course. That doesn't stop me from trying though. Over, and over, and over, and over, and over again..._


	10. It ends tonight

**PLEASE NOTE: This is not the last chapter. There's still one more.**

When I finally wake up from the hallucinations, my entire body's aching. I'm alone in the clearing now, Susan and the mutt's bodies long taken away. I push myself to my feet and clench my teeth from the pain in my arm. I'll want to clean that sting off. Actually, I'll probably want to clean most of myself off. It's probably been nearly a week in the arena, judging by the stiffness in my legs- there must have been some kind of venom far stronger than tracker jacker on it, since I only got one sting, and tracker jacker venom keeps you down for only about two or three days with a few stings- and I haven't been able to clean off any of the blood or dirt yet. I probably still have some of the girl from Seven's blood on my face.

I set off through the woods, hoping that the movement and sensation of the cold wind hitting my face will wake me up again. It doesn't. By the time I make it back to the river, I'm practically falling asleep standing up. I stumble across the pebbles on the bank and kneel beside the river, ignoring the cold seeping through the knees of my pants. I dip my hand into the water and pull it back out again, gasping with shock. Shit, it's even colder than last time! There's no way I can clean my sting off with that.

It seems the odds are in my favour though, since I can hear a very faint beeping sound. I glance up towards the sky and watch the silver parachute float down, landing in my hands. I unclasp the container and open it up, frowning at the small metal canister inside. I unscrew the lid and my frown turns into a grin. The canister is filled with a cream. Hopefully for my sting.

I remember that sponsor gifts usually come with a note from the mentor and it doesn't take me long to find the white slip from Carissa.

_Take care of that sting. You're doing really well. Eleven left. All Careers. __-C_

I consider what she means for a minute. There's eleven of us left. That's good, almost at the final eight. _All Careers. _It takes me a few seconds to figure out that she meant that all the Careers are still alive. Six of them, me, and four other random tributes. I wonder which ones are left. Oh well. I'm sure to find out sooner or later.

* * *

And I do. That night, Liber's face appears in the sky. I feel a small pain of grief, but not much. Sash knew him. I didn't. I feel bad for not feeling too much grief, but at the same time... There's only ten of us left. And that's amazing.

But it got less amazing the day it went down to nine.

* * *

The day started out like most of the other days in the arena had. It had been probably about a week and a half, and I was sure that I had almost gone all the way around the arena. I found a cliff edge and decided to follow it for a little while, hoping that it would lead somewhere interesting. Preferably with food. I had run out of supplies, since most of the bushes I had found were either poisonous or completely frozen so I couldn't use anything besides what I got from the Cornucopia. I tried to thaw some berries from the first bush I had found, but no luck. The arena's just too cold.

I had been following the cliff for about twenty minutes when I heard it. Yelling. I start running towards it, mentally slapping myself as I go._ Why am I doing this? The two people I cared about have already died. I should be focusing on winning, not saving other people._

When I get to the source of the yelling, I mentally slap myself even harder.

Linus. He's clinging to a branch a couple of meters from the top of the cliff, yelling as he scrambles to hold on. His eyes widen when he spots me. "P-Please... I know you hate me, and I know why, but _please..."_

I don't know why, but I listen to him. I lie down on the edge of the cliff and stretch my hand down to him. "Grab on!"

He looks startled for a minute, like he can't believe it. He probably can't. Then he reaches up as far as he can, trying desperately to grab onto my hand. "Y-You're too far away! I c-can't reach!"

I crawl forwards so I'm as far over the edge as I can be without falling myself. I stretch my hand out as far as it can go, and the branch bends as Linus does the same. His fingers just barely brush against mine. His huge brown eyes fill with tears. "I-I c-can't..."

"You _can. _You_ have_ to." I don't know why he has to. I don't know why I care. I don't know why I'm trying.

_You're not a murderer._

Okay, maybe I do know.

Linus blinks back his tears, trying to keep a brave face. "S-Sorry..." And with that he lets go of my fingers.

"No!" I don't even realise I'm saying it until it's already out of my mouth and too late to take back. A second later, his cannon sounds.

I lie there for a few minutes, stunned. He just fell to his death. He was twelve years old, and he just fell to his death. I could have saved him, but I didn't. I wasn't good enough.

* * *

Not much happens for the next few days. I spend more time wandering the arena, hoping to find any source of food. I manage to kill a rabbit, but it's the first animal I've seen. Guess they're just staying well hidden.

A few days after Linus' death, a canon fires. A minute later a second cannon goes off, followed by a third a minute after the second. I wonder what could have happened for three tributes to die one after another.

That night, their faces are shown in the sky. Mist, followed by the girl and then the boy from Four. I'm on my feet in seconds, no longer caring to try and figure out how they died.

Six tributes left. Three of them Careers, three of them outer districts. It's not hard to figure out what Gleam and the District Two tributes are going to do. They're going to spilt up into different directions, each of them heading after one of us. I have to move. I have to find them before they find me.

I move fast, faster than I was moving earlier. I have no real destination in mind, just the goal to keep moving as much and as fast as possible. The shadows seem to be growing, and I could swear that the Gamemakers are making the arena even darker than it was before. Probably for dramatic effect. It sure isn't helping me much as I try not to run into a tree.

A cannon sounds suddenly, and I desperately hope it was one of the Careers. But in all honesty, I don't at the same time. I realised something after Linus died. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of everyone dying. Why can't the Capitol let the six of us- five of us, win? Why can't they just get us out of here? Haven't the districts been punished enough? I'm sick of all the death. Just plain old sick of it.

I crash into a warm tree and fall to the ground, it landing on top of me, pounding my head in. Wait, what?!

I shake my head to clear the stars from it and grab the fists that are hitting me. An indignant cry comes from the person, and I recognize the voice as Paige's. I shove her off of me and scramble to my feet, reaching into my jacket for the blade. She knocks me back down to the ground as I pull it out though, sending it flying out of my hand. I knee her in the stomach and try to get to it, but she grabs my arm, twisting it behind my back until I hear the bones snap. I cry out in pain, and she smirks, thrusting me back down into the snow. She sits on top of me, one of her knees pressing down onto my uninjured arm. I have no way of throwing her off now, since I can't move my broken arm even an inch.

A cannon sounds. Paige pushes a blonde curl out of her face and places the tip of a knife at the corner of my mouth. "Welcome to the finale."


	11. It's where my demons hide

Paige sits back on her heels, examining my face carefully. "Now, where to begin?"

"Begin what?" I know it's a stupid question as soon as it's out of my mouth.

"Seeing how long it takes District Eight's boy to beg for death this year." She cuts slowly across my forehead, smiling slightly.

I gasp slightly, not prepared for the stinging pain. "You're insane."

"That's not very nice." She places the knife against my cheek. "Say you're sorry." I don't reply and she slices down. I wince, but manage not to make a sound this time.

"Have you learned your lesson yet?" she asks a few minutes later as she cuts down my neck, light enough that it won't slit my throat but it'll bleed.

"What am I supposed to be learning?"

She twirls the knife around in her fingers, contemplating where to cut next. "To be nicer to be. After all," she points out, "I'm the one who's in control of your life right now."

I clench my teeth against the pain that shoots up my arm as Paige cuts down it. She smirks. "Aw, did that hurt Eight?"

I close my eyes, focusing on keeping my breathing even. "No."

She chuckles and whispers in my ear, "Come on. _Beg for it._"

I shake my head and she growls, placing the tip of her knife against my temple and slowly cutting down my face. I try not to think of it, try to think of something else, anything else. It's not working. I open my eyes again, and regret it almost instantly. The blood's trickling down into them. In fact, I can't think of a spot on my face where there _isn't_ blood. Paige notices as well. "Looks like I'm almost out of clean skin. Well," She slices off a section of my jacket and wipes the blood from one of my cheeks, smirking. "There's a solution for that."

She presses the tip of the knife against my cheek, close to the corner of my mouth. "I'm feeling artistic. How about... Hmm... A star? A spiral?" She giggles. "X marks the spot?"

Another cannon sounds. She sighs. "Well, that's one of the other Careers. Just us and them now, hmm? Oh, a squiggly line!" She laughs. "Like the rest of the cuts, but more fun!" She cuts from my temple down to the top of my neck, curving the line. "That's better."

"Done your 'fun' yet?"

"No." She tugs the zippers of my jacket and sweater down away from my neck. "Wow Eight, your collarbone sure sticks out. Don't they give you any food back home?" She cuts along it with the knife as she speaks, but there's an actual question in her eyes, the first real emotion I've seen from her.

"Not everyone's as well fed as Two is," I manage to gasp out.

She smirks. "I can see that. I wonder if I would be able to count your ribs..." The knife slips between my ribs, and I grit my teeth as hard as I can to keep from crying out. "Well Eight? Would I? You're close to death as it is, all I have to do is slit your throat, but are you starving to death anyways?"

I don't reply.

She pulls the knife out of my ribs and stabs my arm. "Answer me!"

"No, not-" Blood bubbles up in my throat, stopping my words. I turn my head as best I can and cough it up. Paige smirks. "Shut up bitch."

She twists the knife and I cry out despite my best efforts not to. "I don't think that was wise, freak."

"I'm not a freak." More blood bubbles up, but instead of coughing it up again, I swish it to the side of my mouth.

She laughs. "Oh, keep believing that if it makes you happy. We all know it's not true." When I don't respond she pulls the knife out and places it against my throat. "What? No sarcastic comeback? Are you _finally_ giving up, Eight?" She presses down slightly, and I feel the blood trickle down my neck. "Well? Are you?"

I don't answer in words. Instead I spit the blood in my mouth at her. She gasps slightly as it hits the side of her face, before her eyes flash with anger and she lifts the knife up, holding it tightly in her hands above me. "That's it Eight! You are so-"

I never get to find out what I am. A second later her eyes widen and Paige collapses on me. Dead. Her cannon fires.

I slowly raise my eyes from Paige's body to the boy standing in front of me with a bloody knife in his hand. Gleam. It's just the two of us now.

"I was hoping that she had found you. Fitting, isn't it? That the Capitol's favourite is about to die in the finale, when they all want him to win?"

"Isn't that a bit egotistical? Saying you're the Capitol's favourite?" I slide my good arm under Paige's body slowly, trying to get it in the right place.

"It would be, but I'm not the one about to die, now am I?"

"Don't count on it," I say, before throwing Paige's body off me and rolling to the side, wincing as I roll over my broken arm, and grabbing my blade off the ground. I scramble to my feet as quickly as I can, gritting my teeth against the pain.

Problem #1: I'm right-handed and my right arm's the one that's broken.

Problem #2: There's so much blood covering my face that I can barely see Gleam.

Problem #3: I'm still not a murderer. I can't see myself killing Gleam, no matter how much of an asshole he is, or how much I want to live, even if it's just so that I can go home and _sleep._

Problem #4: Sleep. Seriously, it would be helpful right now. I have next to no energy. Being tortured does that to a person.

Solution #1: I'm still pretty good at fighting left-handed. I made sure of it in training.

Solution #2: We're on snow. I can still hear him.

As for Problems #3 and #4, there's not much I can do about it. All I can do is close my eyes and focus on the sound of Gleam.

There's a burst of laughter in front and a little to the right of me, followed by a "That's your plan, Eight? Close your eyes and wait for death? Gladly." There's the sound of feet scrambling across snow, and I step out of the way just in time to avoid being knocked down. Gleam growls in frustration and I swing the blade towards the noise. There's a faint cry of pain, another scuffle, and then silence. I try to relax and listen for the sound of his breathing, or the accidental brush against a branch. Nothing.

Something cold suddenly pierces through my back, clear through my spine. It's there for only a minute, and then I'm crashing to the ground. My senses start to fade away quickly, until the only thing left that I'm aware of is the beating of my heart.

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thu-_

**And the 56th Hunger Games were won by Gleam Adriat. Thank you to Celtic, Dreamer, and Kate for reviewing every chapter, I appreciate it sooo much! I have another story coming out soon, the third in this sort-of-series, called Feren and Brown. It's about the 60th Games, and it should be really good! Thanks to anyone who read this, and I'm sorry I killed Gabriel! :'(**


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